A Little Fall of Rain Can Hardly Hurt Me Now
by Heart Full of Elves
Summary: In her last moments, Éponine mentally composes a letter to Marius.


_Note: Original title, eh? I actually wrote this for English about a year and a half ago and meant to post it then, but I only had a hard copy and I only just found it again today. So I typed it up, edited it rather a lot, and voila! __This follows mostly the 2012 movie!canon and fanon._

* * *

><p>Dearest Marius,<p>

I am dying. _I'm dying._ What a peculiar thing to say. One minute I was standing behind the barricade, the next I was moving to take the bullet meant for you. Now I'm in your arms and I can feel the life leaving me. My senses are dulling, but I am not unaware of everything just yet. I know that the barricade, made with determination and desperation from the furniture of the houses in the street, surrounds us. I can smell the damp wood mixed with the metallic smell of my own blood as it drenches my shirt. Out of the corner of my eye I can see that somewhere in the distance a streetlight flickers like a candle. And I can feel that it is raining. But you already know that, because you're here. With me.

Don't think that I am dying unnecessarily. I'm dying in the name of the Revolution, for a cause I believe in. Look at me – I have nothing. I wish for you all to succeed, to create a better life for the people of France. We – _they_, now – desire freedom, and they need to be able to live.

Are you wondering why I was here at the barricade in the first place? I'm here because I have nothing left. You are holding me in my last moments, but your thoughts are elsewhere. If I can't have you, the one light in my dark and cold life, the only good man I've known, who would rather be with Cosette, then I have nothing and no-one.

I live on the streets, wearing nothing but rags. I had to steal the men's clothes that I now wear, but at least they are clean and not threadbare. My parents once gave me treats; they pampered me, the eldest daughter of the Thénardiers. Then that man took Cosette away and they needed someone to do the mountain of jobs that she used to. That someone was I, Éponine. When Cosette lived with us she at least felt secure; when I was thirteen I turned to wandering in the streets instead of sleeping in a house where I was abused and hurt. I never had a home. My parents threatened me, made me steal things, and sold all my belongings. Cosette was lucky to escape them.

I confess that I was always jealous of you for having money while I have none. You live in comfort while I live on the streets. This injustice, this inequality is why I believe in the Revolution. It is what your friends are fighting against, what you and I are fighting against, what the men at the other barricades are fighting against. Keep fighting, Marius. If I could have only lived longer, to see the day that France is freed, then I might have been happy.

I can glimpse Enjolras over there in his red jacket, a good man and a greater leader. You should trust him to do what is right. But I fear he will not last long, reckless as he is, so protect him, because without a leader you will be in trouble.

You may have noticed the young boy staying out of sight; he is Gavroche, my little brother. Like me, he has nothing. He is sweet to me, like a younger brother should, and we stole for each other at birthdays and Christmas, but cast all that aside and we are nearly strangers, all alone in the world. We don't know each other's secrets. I don't know why he is here, and he cannot know why I'm here. Without me, he is on his own – look after him, if you can.

_"__Don't fret, Monsieur Marius, for I don't feel any pain."_ That is what I keep telling you, and it isn't true. I am dying of a gunshot wound – of course it hurts. But I want you to think I'm brave, even though I'm not. Coming here was like a suicide, for I expected – nay_, wanted_ – to die here.

I wasn't destined for a long and joyful life. I know you will live, and you will live well. I hope that you and Cosette are happy, happier than I have ever been, and I'm sorry for keeping her letter from you. I envied you for having each other, for having the love of another. And I am still jealous, because you won't miss me. Without me, your worlds, full of the sort of happiness that I've never known, will go on turning. I never will know happiness now.

Thank you for holding me, for being with me in my last moments. You're here, giving me comfort as I die, and that's all I need to know. My vision is going and soon I shall be gone. I am unafraid of death. All I ask is that you kiss me when I go.

There is one more thing. You be questioning why I took the bullet for you. (I wish I had the strength to tell you out loud. If I were braver, then maybe I could fight the pain to say it. But I can't.) Up until now I've never been selfish, only a survivor, and that is why I stepped in front of you: to save your life. I only wanted you to live and be happy, Marius, because I love –


End file.
